


Improv Hour

by cenobitesquid, orphan_account



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Childhood Trauma, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenobitesquid/pseuds/cenobitesquid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Comedian comes home to find Rorschach in his bathroom, and as a thing or two to say (and moreover demonstrate) on the subject of Rorschach's relationship with his partner Nite Owl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edited from a roleplay done with @sunklefunkle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 Tags: Rorschach/Comedian, Violence, Consentual Sex, Rough Sex, Anal, Asphyxiation, Injury

It was near dawn. Rorcharch stumbled down a maze of dark, filthy alleyways one foot in front of the other, leaving a trail of finely splattered red behind him. Blood was dripping from his gloved hands, from under his mask, and from the hem of his coat and trousers, saturated with the stuff. The alleys got nicer as he got closer to his destination. Less garbage, fewer dead animals, fewer bodies sleeping on cardboard boxes, huddled in tattered blankets. 

He'd arrived. With a low grunt of pain he jumped up to grab onto the fire escape, pulling himself up though the effort caused him to leak blood quicker. No matter, he had more where that came from. The window was locked, but the lock wasn't very strong. He moved through the unfamiliar living room, the kitchen, cracking open what he hoped was the bathroom door. It was. He turned on the light, and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling things he needed down from the shelves, dumping them in the sink. 

The Comedian's apartment was cleaner than one might have expected, especially given that it wasn't barren. There were details from his exploits across the globe, not quite furnished enough to have a familial touch, but a scrapbook of sorts, all the same. His bathroom was the lone exception, the shower curtain a nondescript plastic liner, a black bath mat on floor, the medicine cabinet filled with just about everything that anybody had ever thought to put there. Of course, that made sense; the Comedian lived by the sword and hadn't fallen upon it quite yet, however many times it got thrust in his direction. 

Walking in from a trip to the corner store, the Comedian had no goddamn idea of who was in his apartment. In fact, the Comedian didn't live in that apartment - Edward Blake did, and Edward Blake was willing to fucking gut whoever or /whatever/ was responsible for the gap in his window. The damned thing never did shut quite right unless he slammed on it a couple of times with his fist. Whoever had come in either hadn't noticed the gap was there or hadn't cared - from the specks of blood he could see on the floor, he was guessing the latter. Not that those were about to matter, either. There was about to be a much, much bigger problem for that miserable son of a bitch - 

"/Rorschach/?" he heard himself say, managing to stop the downswing of his jack knife before it got planted in the kid's skull.

"Yes." He didn't bother to look up. Rorschach was sitting on the closed toilet lid, had his shirt rucked up to his chest and a bottle of peroxide gripped between his knees, coat unbuttoned but the rest of his costume still in place. He was hunched over himself, surgical needle and thread in hand, sewing closed what looked like a stab wound on his stomach. 

"Fuckin' Christ, kid," he said, He assumed he was a kid, anyway, if he hung out with Nite Owl and sounded like the rest of them. Snot nosed punks. Slightly disappointed at the lack of a need for bloodshed, he slid his knife back into his boot. "What happened to you?"

"Got into a skirmish. Nothing serious. Spotted some thugs causing trouble on my patrol. Five on one, got stabbed a few times. Left them on the sidewalk for the cops to pick up." By the time he was done with this explanation he'd put a dozen more stitches in, sealing the wound closed with professionally neat, evenly spaced sutures. The thread was knotted with another deft movement, and he reached for the scissors on the edge of the sink to cut the thread. 

"And you thought the best course of action was dragging yourself to my apartment, trailing blood like a chicken with its head cut off? Real nice," he asked, snapping up the scissors and holding them while he looked down at the young man on his toilet. "I thought cauterizing you was bird-brain's official capacity."

He looked up, his hand lowering down again from where it had reached for the scissors, staring at Comedian from behind his mask, silent for a long moment as he took him in. “Nite Owl is taking the night off." He recited flatly, glancing back down at the wound on his stomach, the string pulled taut but no scissors to cut it. 

"When's that ever stopped you from rattling his perch? To hear him tell it, you two practically live together," Edward said. After considering another moment, he tossed the scissors to Rorschach, who caught them, of course, albeit stiffly. It was amazing that under all those layers, he still couldn't hide his feelings.

"No. We don't live together. I use his facilities when I need them. Like now. But it was clear he didn't want me around. Implying maybe he would have company." He cut the string, then reached down to prod into a slash on his pant leg, uncapping the peroxide and pouring it on a slash wound there. "Besides, didn't want him to see this. Sloppy work." 

"It's sloppy work by anybody's standards. What the hell made you think /I/ wanted to see it?" He leaned back against the doorway, crossing his arms. "Did chicken little gettin' a date really shake you up so hard you can't think straight? Or is that last part not a recent problem?"

His gaze snapped back up at this comment, shoulders tensing, mouth twisting to a ugly grimace beneath his mask. "Don't know what you're implying. Think it's stupid to take a night off for any reason. Don't care why he did it. Also. If you don't want to look, you can leave me alone." He decided the cut on his leg was shallow enough to get by with a bandage, and he stuck some adhesive strips on it. He frowned a little at his ruined slacks, a waste. 

"Speaking of stupid, who got cut to ribbons over his best friend taking the night off? Or did you need to get poked with something to take the edge off?" He was grinning now, enjoying riling up the little man who was taking up his bathroom. "I mean, I could help with that. I know a lot of guys in the service-"

"We're coworkers. And what are you talking about, he doesn't---" Rorschach was in the middle of rolling up one trouser leg to get at a bloodied scraped knee when the Comedian's meaning struck him. His hands went momentarily slack, his spine suddenly rigid as he stared up at the other man, choked to silence for a moment on his own indignation. He felt his skin prickle, from his fingertips up to his scalp. "....Are you implying.... you think I want to....hhh, no. No. Disgusting even to consider. Please refrain from spewing filth."

"You're shit out of luck, this is my home and all I got stocked is knives and filth. And scotch, if that's gonna help you get over your pearl clutching denial any sooner," he said. Honestly, it was the most fun he'd had since since the assassination. 

"Tch." He frowned under his mask, flexing his shoulder blades. He had a cut there too, across his back, in a place he wouldn't be able to reach to clean or bandage, or stitch if it needed it. "Not in denial. If you're projecting, spare me the gruesome details. Really not interested."

"Really? You're going to pretend everybody and their brother hasn't seen you trailing after our boy hot wings like a lost puppy after a big, juicy bone?" he said. "I don't hide anything. Not how I fight, not how I fuck. You on the other hand? You're not even man enough to own up to what you want. Clearly been too long since you shot off anything other than your mouth."

"Coworkers." He said, more forcefully, and it sounded defensive even to his own ears. The truth was, he did seek out Nite Owl's company. The truth was, it pissed him off to think about him with some vapidly pretty woman, smiling at her stupid, mundane anecdotes as he poured out wine and cooked dinner, or whatever it was he would do. A waste. 

"All right. I like Nite Owl. We make good partners. Smart, efficient, pleasant. Even if often naive." He didn't really know what was making him fess up to Comedian, other than that he respected the man, and he'd clearly been called out. "If you're talking about masturbation, that's a filthy habit. No time for it. Busy working."

"It takes five minutes. You could literally do it in the shower. Brushing your teeth. I mean, you could also fuck it out if your own company repulses you that much. But at least take care of your own basic needs like a responsible adult, y'know?"

This conversation was making him more and more uncomfortable, and he wondered how he'd gotten backed into this corner in the first place, prodded with a hot poker of honesty. Why did it matter? It was pathetic that he cared what Comedian thought of him in the first place. But he did, he respected him. "Basic needs are food, water, sleep. I take care of them well enough. I have gotten by fine without engaging in intercourse up until now, don't see any reason why it should be necessary."

"...Listen, Rorschach? There isn't anyone alive past puberty that doesn't fuck. Not when they can get it up, anyway. Even nuns get creative with crosses," he said. "How're you supposed to keep yourself sane and healthy if you're denying one of your most basic instincts?"

"That's stupid. What you just said is provably wrong, because I just told you that I don't. Not convinced it would make me saner. Definitely not healthier. Disease running rampant. More risk of being attacked when vulnerable to carnal impulses." He turned his head away, spine still rigid, staring at the towel rack on the wall facing the toilet. "Every addict is better off without their drug. Better not to start in the first place." 

"If you're human, you're already on the hardest drug you can ever take, kid." Edward craned his neck a little, catching sight of some red that was dotting the back of Rorschach's coat. He'd thought, at first, that it was just fallout from the fight he'd had but it seemed more and more likely that the damage was from /him/ as those dots started to spread. "Look at you. You've spent so much energy running away from your desires you're cut up in another man's bathroom too proud to ask for help dressing a wound you could pass out from and too ignorant to realize condoms exist."

"27. Not a kid anymore." He said, though he couldn't quite muster up enough irritation in his voice to sound convincing. His hands balled to fists where they were resting on his thighs, and he took a slow, inaudible inhale. Then he brusquely lifted his hands and pulled off his coat, then his t-shirt, tugging it off over his scarf and mask, which he left in place. It was odd, wearing just the mask like that, his arms and torso bared. At least he didn't have to see himself, but being seen was just as bad. He was uncomfortable showing so much skin, pale and freckled and vulnerable, soft in a way he hated, stretched across his bones, littered with scars, old and new, cuts, scrapes, cigarette burns, stripes across his back like he'd been whipped with something. His sordid, ugly past all laid out. And the newest offense, a deep cut just between his shoulder blades, still dripping blood. 

"You have the right to say that to me when you've killed a man," Edward told him, not at all pausing in his stride over when Rorschach tensed again at the comment. Every time he thought he was done coiling, he found some new muscle to freeze; it was hilarious and sad at the same time. He reached for a couple of cotton buds from his medicine cabinet, swiping for the bottle of peroxide at the same time and half surprised Rorschach let him take it. He doused the cotton and started cleaning up his back. "Speaking of, I don't think I'll ever stop calling you kid with this many freckles. Bring a baseball bat and a couple of 'gee willikers' with you next time. We'll start one of those dinner time family type shows."

"Hnnh, not likely." He muttered, a bit muffled beneath his mask. He didn't wince from the pain of the peroxide stinging into the cut, but his whole body was rigid from the mere fact that someone unfamiliar was touching it at all in the first place. "Freckles regrettable. Genetic blight. Never liked them."

"Heh. Yeah, you're a red head alright. What was it, other boys beat the snot outta you cause you got fairy kisses all over?" he asked, though he didn't really expect an answer. He set aside the bloodied swabs and wiped over where he'd worked before he started threading a needle. "That's just people being people, Rorschach. Kids these days don't get acceptable outlets for their aggression when they're young. Used to be we just beat the shit out of each other and let nature take its course. Repression is always an ugly thing."

He jerked away from the dab of his cotton swab at the phrase fairy kisses, face twisting to something unpleasant beneath the shield of his mask. "No. Other boys beat me for other reasons. Adults too. Don't like the freckles because my mother had them. Ugly. If it's how you say, maybe I was born in the wrong time. Always been good at fighting, when no one's holding me back."

"Yeah? Smart enough, or angry enough? I'd hazard a guess as to both. You've done some pretty creative shit with a crowbar and a roll of duck tape, hear tell." He asked, not bothering with being gentle as he slid the needle into Rorschach's skin. It needed pinching to keep the wound shut, anyway, and it was still bleeding a little, so the whole thing was bound to be a messy business. Wouldn't stop him from doing it. 

He still didn't flinch, even wound up taut as he was. It registered as more of an annoyance than as pain, it hurt a little but his pain scale had become extremely skewed. After walking fifteen blocks with multiple stab wounds, a little needle jab was nothing. "Yes," he said, not really given much to ego but always glad when his reputation preceded him into a room, even if it were a bunch of scumbag lowlives. Moreso when it was his erstwhile costumed compatriots.

The Comedian wasn't one for blowing smoke up anyone's ass. He could be amenable when the situation called for it, though, and it wasn't like what he'd said was a lie. He'd seen exactly how those robber's newly broken limbs had been repurposed - now that was modern art. "Even so, maybe you should take a note out of Veidt's book. Learn to be a lover. Where it's needed, fuck's sake, don't make me deal with another vegetarian."

"Hrmh. Still don't think it's needed. Thought of intercourse generally repulsive. Fine in the abstract maybe. Besides. Women make me uncomfortable. Too much subtext." He couldn't figure out why Comedian was picking at this particular sore spot. Maybe because he was a notorious womanizer himself, he took it personally if Rorschach abstained. Ridiculous, but a reasonable explanation.

"Wait. You gotta be honest with me for one second, Rorschach. None of whatever bullshit hat trick switcheroo you usually pull: do you think Ozzy likes women?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't he? He always has beautiful women all over him. On his perfume advertisements, on his arm, at the reception desk. What are you trying to say, Comedian?" He turned to look over his shoulder, not caring if it tugged at the newly laid stitches.

"I'm not trying to say anything, I'm telling you that our boy Ozzy is batting a hundred for the other goddamn team. I can't belie- Well, okay, I can believe you haven't noticed. Damn. That's almost impressive."

Very slowly, Rorschach turned his head back, to stare at the wall again, in utter silence. He felt his heart pounding faster in his chest, but he couldn't figure out why. Was he angry? Upset for some reason? Did he think there wasn't perversion and degeneracy among the Crimebusters? Of course there was, they were adults in costumes administering vigilante justice. But Ozymandias... well... "Didn't know. He doesn't act like a queer." 

"Listen, you know I'd rather eat two to the head for dinner than give in to this touchy feely political correctness bullshit, but what you mean he doesn't act like a woman. Neither do I, though, so what the hell else is there to say?" It had been an off the cuff addition, mostly, but he could /see/ the spasm that ran in between Rorschach's shoulder blades as he processed it. "Careful, you're gonna suffocate yourself with all the smoke pouring out your ears, trapped up in that fucking mask."

That was pretty much the last straw. Comedian had it right, something like pressure was building and building in him as they kept talking about it, from the initial argument about the value of fornication and now /this/. It was too much. He jerked away from him, up to his feet, reaching down to grab his bloodied tshirt and coat on the way. "If that's a joke, it's not funny. You can't be a homosexual. Look at you. Everyone knows you fuck women. I think I'd better leave." 

"I think you'd better sit down before you try something stupid, like walking around leaking a trail of blood for all our collective buddies to sniff you down by," the Comedian said. Rorschach didn't have much say in the matter - he was looking to escape, and the area was small, and pound for pound, Edward was just bigger and meaner. He grabbed Rorschach by his shoulders and forced him back down onto the toilet seat. "If you don't think the pickings in Nam were fucking slim, you've got another thing coming. And if you don't think there are men out there just as pretty and just as stupid and just as good at sucking cock than most women, your societal analysis has got a few major holes in it."

Rorschach had already spotted five different objects in the bathroom that could be used with near-lethal force to attempt to get past Comedian, and he was nearly to the point of giving it a try. His heart was hammering too fast for a non-combat scenario, his ears ringing, adrenaline making his hands prickle. "Don't... I don't want to hear about. Whatever perversions of nature you performed overseas. Don't want to think about it... isn't right." 

"What makes it not right, Rorschach? I never can figure out whether you're a bible thumping conservative or an atheist liberal. Either way, you've got your head up your ass about all of this. And you ain't even having fun up there," Edward said, and his voice had turned into that stern tone again, the one that made him think of his father, and that just made him all the more determined to get to the bottom of whatever the fuck was bugging him so much about this. About Rorschach's blatant denial of reality.

"Let go of me." He said, unwilling to dignify the subject at hand with further discussion, and suddenly feeling /very/ antsy with the feeling of Comedian's broad rough hands gripping his bare shoulders. He didn't let go. In fact, he grinned right in Rorschach's face as if the request was some kind of joke. It wasn't. He figured a couple of seconds was enough buffer for compliance. Without much warning he slammed his head forward, aiming for the Comedian's nose, trying to break it with his skull. His hand was already on the counter, gripping onto a porcelain toothbrush holder, breaking it against the edge of the sink to grab onto one of the bigger, sharper shards.

The Comedian wasn't far behind him, nor was Edward goddamn /Blake/ for that matter - it wasn't the first time his nose had been broken, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last. He had no illusions that it was broken, but adrenaline came with the pain, and he found himself grinning viciously as he caught Rorschach's downswing and turned his momentum around on himself, digging the shard into the front of his shoulder. He took the hook to his ribs, wheezing, some of the blood dripping from his nose spraying out over Rorschach's mask as he coughed.

Rorschach didn't even bother taking the shard back out of his shoulder. It would only bleed more, and he'd lost a lot of blood already. When his punch landed, he twisted and made a dash for the door, only to find himself slammed into it bodily. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear he cracked another rib, it felt a little like being hit by a train. His cheekbone slammed into the closed door with bruising force and he grunted as he felt the shard in his shoulder dig in deeper. He slammed the heel of his shoe down on Comedian's bare toes, his hand on the doorknob, ready to yank it open if he stumbled back. 

He didn't. Instead, he seemed hell bent on grabbing Rorschach, forcing him around - the hand at his jaw seemed that he was about ready to snap his neck, and he felt one of Rorschach's hands dig into his wrist hard, clearly trying to dig out a vein there, to do something.

And then he kissed him.

It was not, as first kisses went, ideal. Actually, as most kisses went, it wasn't ideal. Edward was bleeding out of his fucking nose, all over a prophylactic sheet of fucking latex, and Rorschach had gone more rigid than a corpse that had already had a few days to contemplate rigor mortis. But it did get the little fucker to go still, and not resisting was just about all the permission the Comedian needed to kiss him harder, pressing him back against the door with his whole body and holding him there, forcing him to actually think about what was happening. What he was going to do about what was happening. 

Rorschach felt his muscles freeze, felt his whole brain nearly shut off, like a deer staring stupidly into the headlights of it's own inevitable doom. He felt his stomach drop, one part terror, one part some kind of misplaced erotic reaction as Comedian's mouth crushed against his. His mouth was already bruised and bloodied from the fight, and the way his tongue was sliding against the latex of his mask was entirely indecent. Rorschach didn't know what to do or think. He'd thought the mask would protect him from at /least/ this much, but apparently not. 

Grimy nails dug into his arms hard as he felt those broad hands move down to grip his hips, as he felt his body react against his will, stirring heat in his loins. Did he want this? Was he enjoying this? A part of him was. He wanted desperately to deny it, to ignore it, but the intensity of Comedian's attention, the warmth of his solid, muscular body crushing him into the door... felt familiar, though he'd never felt anything like it before. Felt oddly reassuring. 

When he pulled back from the kiss Rorschach was breathing hard though his nose, staring up at the other man, still at a loss for words. 

Rorschach was one of those men who always seemed bigger than he really was when he was in action; right now, he looked exactly as tiny and helpless as Edward remembered thinking he was in their first few brushes. He was well equipped to handle that kind of shock, though, and he jerked Rorschach's hips against his own, before he ground him back into the doorway, grinning, some of his own blood staining his teeth, dripping down his mouth. "Stop trying to ascribe morality to every damn thing, kid. Forget about trees, you're losing the forest for the goddamn pinecones."

"....Not a queer. But all right. Could try it out. Once. Better than trying with a woman maybe. Feels less foreign. Want to keep my mask on." Partly it was to hide his own nerves, partly it was because he really did value his anonymity from the other members of their little crime fighting club. Even if he was nobody. Especially because he was nobody. And wanted to keep it that way, now that he'd finally found his calling. 

As for what was happening right now, he didn't know what to do, what was expected. But since it was the Comedian he was with, he figured it would be obvious enough when that time came, the other man was not really one for subtlety in anything.

"Not sure I'd want you to take it off. Kind of kinky," Edward said, and his booming laugh was far too big for the little bathroom he was in. But he could /feel/ Rorschach's sourness at being called anything other than the most sober man in America. He took a half-step back, shucking his jacket, peeling off his own shoes in a show of good will. Some of the blood had trickled down his jaw, over his thick neck, but he wasn't about to waste time dabbing gently. Besides, he always felt a little blood added to /anyone's/ appeal. He slid his belt from his jeans. "Relax for once in your damn life, Rorschach. Nobody would believe this shit if I told them, anyway."

Rorschach was thinking it too, the broken nose dripping blood was almost soothing, a reminder that this was something impulsive, not something pre-meditated. Which made it incrementally easier to swallow. He watched the Comedian undress, twitching just a little when he saw his belt come off. The only other time a full grown man had ever taken his belt off in front of him was with very different intentions in mind. 

He tried to relax, taking slower breaths, pushing his back into the solid wood of the door, feeling the tug of fresh stitches there. His body ached, but he was used to that. It was also strangely aroused, the erection pushing against his trousers almost irritating, like an itch that wanted scratching. 

"What should I do?" he finally asked, realizing that the only thing the Comedian had mentioned doing with other men was having his cock sucked, which was not possible with his mask on.

"Well, if I'm going to fuck you, losing your pants would probably be a good bet. If you're planning to fuck /me/, then how you work out the math of winning a wrestling match is your own problem," Edward said, somehow able to see Rorschach running the calculations in his head, despite his face being covered. He'd dropped his belt to the floor, not exactly surprised to see Rorschach's shoulders relax, just a fraction, when he did. His pants were still zipped, though, as he rummaged through his medicine cabinet for a condom and some lube. They weren't hard to find, exactly, but he had a /lot/ of shit in his cabinet.

Rorschach had wished in the past that he knew less of the mechanics of what exactly two men did in the course of fucking each other, but of course he'd been insulted enough to know by now. Compliments of being small, he figured, faggot was just the easiest flavor of insult to sling. It had never occurred to him that there was even a sliver of truth to that slander. 

He figured it was going to hurt. At the least. Maybe it would cause permanent damage, and he'd probably deserve it. Slowly, he leaned down to unlace his shoes, prying them off then standing to unbutton his slacks. He let them fall off of his hips, then looking down at himself, he reached over and flipped the light switch off. Better. There was still enough light coming in from under the crack in the door to see, and seeing his own starkly pale, freckled skin framing an awkward erection was distasteful to him. 

"Jesus, you want to be any more blushing about it? Should I fetch the smelling salts while I'm up here?" Edward said, but there was an edge his voice was missing, a roughness from when he meant an insult to stick. Besides, in the dark, you could /feel/ better, or at least, Edward felt that way. One of his calloused palms reached out, barely catching the light before it trailed down Rorschach's abdomen. He wasn't rippling with pectorals - just skinny, and wiry, and cut up everywhere, though his skin was surprisingly soft most places it wasn't torn to hell. Must be genetics, he figured, not at all shy about wrapping his hand around Rorschach's dick and fisting it as he leaned in to kiss him again, just as rough the second time around, and just as bloody, and just as enthusiastic. 

He jolted with surprise at the touch, he'd been half expecting to be just turned around and shoved up against the door. It felt strange, having someone else touching him, when he barely ever even touched himself anymore, not since that first overwhelming wave of post-pubescent hormones had finally passed. But when the shock wore off, he realized it felt... good. It felt really good. Not just having someone else do it, but the way he was being handled, coarse and straight to the point, no bullshit. He made a low noise in his throat this time when Comedian's mouth jammed down against his, and this time he let his own lips part behind the mask, slid his own tongue tentatively up against the probe of the other man's. 

Just about the only thing that stopped the Comedian's tongue from tangling with Rorschach's was that it physically /couldn't/, and he just barely resisted the urge to tear through the damn latex with his teeth. That would be a whole /thing/, he figured, and god knew emotions didn't have a place in fucking. He was looking to avoid that shit wherever possible. Instead, he focused his energy in his hand, shifting closer to take both of their pricks in his hand, rubbing them against each other, careful to avoid the heads, any precome, having a feeling Rorschach of all people wouldn't particularly appreciate that level of fluid bonding. Not yet, anyway, even if he seemed to have no particulars about /blood/ smearing everywhere. 

It wasn't exactly how he'd envisioned this going. He didn't think there would be so much /touching/ for one. And for another, he hadn't realized it would feel so good. In fact he had been mostly under the impression that any sex he could manage have with another person would be distinctly unpleasant in some way. Either interpersonally or physically or both. But there was nothing unpleasant about the way Comedian was stroking him, even when his own prick squished up against his. It was dry and hot and soft, and Rorschach found himself finally beginning to actually relax. He was even getting used to the kissing.

"Don't tear your stitches freaking out," was all the warning Rorschach got before the Comedian was shifting again, letting go of their little mutual masturbation session to pick Rorschach up by his thighs, balancing him between his hips and the door. He had getting a condom opened and on down to a science, so it was a pretty minimal gap before he was touching him again, his cock shamelessly rubbing against the other man's ass. "Trust me, you're going to be glad you aren't responsible for keeping yourself up in a minute."

"Hngh." he grunted out noncommittally, taking a slow, deep breath. He would have tried to relax, but he knew better. He knew that the minute anything came remotely near his ass he was going to lock up tighter than a bank vault and no amount of mental effort was going to change that. He tried to focus on the heat of the other man's body, the strong grip of his hands, realizing just how much he enjoyed his physical proximity. Wondering if maybe he would want to do this again, impossible as that had seemed five minutes ago. 

The bathroom was big enough for the Comedian to not bang himself on every sharp edge during late nights, but it wasn't big - he could easily reach behind himself and grab the lube he'd left sitting on the sink, slicking his fingers with it, preparing himself for how messy this was going to be, and already resigned to the fact that he was going to work Rorschach open like the uptight virgin he was. Whatever. He'd done it before. There wasn't much warning before he was pressing a slick finger between where his dick was and Rorschach's ass was, rubbing his hole before it started to press into him. He didn't bother trying to distract him with a kiss, knowing that his ass would be /all/ he was thinking about at the moment.

He'd decided in his mind that he was going to be perfectly stoic about this, but it appeared his body had other plans. He let out a choked noise of surprise when that first finger pressed into his hole. He'd expected pain, he knew how to deal with pain. This was merely /strange/, slick and foreign and uncomfortable, and it was all he could do not to squirm, not to reach down and grab Comedian's wrist, or maybe headbutt him in the face again. He tried to breathe normally, letting his head thunk back against the door, looking up at the darkened ceiling past the Comedian's head. When he pressed another finger in he hissed, now it hurt a little, but not like he expected. More like a painfully sore muscle being stretched after a workout, not like being punched or cut or torn open. Worse, his cock seemed to have blanket enthusiasm for the activity, twitching against his belly when his ass was stretched. 

"Better damn punchline than I could have come up with. For once, I don't mind," he grinned, his nicotine stained teeth catching glances of light from the door, making them look whiter and more dangerous than they were in the light. He shoved his hips forward just a little more tightly to give a hand back to squeezing Rorschach's dick, laughing at the way it confused his body, made his hole clench down, but not out of wanting to reject his fingers. 

Rorschach had nothing clever to say to that, so he said nothing at all, focusing on the way the hand stroking his dick made his muscles tighten, made the fingers pressed inside of him feel almost good, instead of awkwardly intrusive and strange. He was /sensitive/ back there in a way he hadn't expected, and when the pads of Comedian's calloused fingers rubbed into him just right he had to choke back a groan that sounded suspiciously close to pure pleasure. 

"Yeah, that's it, isn't it," Edward grinned, less to tease Rorschach and more because he really was pleased. Because he loved to force people to acknowledge what they didn't want to, /especially/ when it came to the pleasure he could give them, in a way only he could give them. He rocked his fingers back a little, then up again, massaging Rorschach's prostate, getting him relaxed enough that he managed a third finger, just barely. His thumb finally slid over Rorschach's slit as he pulled his fingers back, slicking what remained on his fingers over his own cock, already slicked over the condom with lube, barely any of it dried yet. He grabbed himself, nudging the head of his prick against Rorschach's hole, firm as he'd been with his fingers, insistent. 

"Nnnh," he exhaled, when he felt the head of his cock, much thicker than his fingers, pressed up against his hole. The condom felt strange, but he recognized and appreciated the practicality. Even if he thought it might feel better without it. Maybe with someone who hadn't indiscriminately fucked so many other people first. The pressure of the blunt tip of his cock against his hole increased, and he grit his teeth together, trying and failing not to make a noise as the head of his prick finally popped through. It burned, and he found himself squirming despite himself, panting for breath through his nose as he gripped into Comedian's shoulders to brace himself, pushing himself back against the door.

He was probably too big to be fucking someone for their first time, but that had never stopped him from doing it before. Rorschach would pull through, he knew, and it'd be soon, because it wouldn't be long until he was rubbing up against his prostate again. Long as it had been since he'd had a man /that/ sensitive, he remembered /exactly/ what it was like, and he found himself bucking up into Rorschach excitedly, a dull thud against the door each time, his knees and Rorschach's back rocking against it. He jerked him off again, a little rougher with his touch this time, to match the intensity of being fucked, or at least approximate it.

The more intense it got, the more difficult it was to stop the noises trying to escape him, and finally he just gave up. If he was going to be loud, at least there would be no one else around to hear it. His hands slid from Comedian's shoulders to his neck, his nails scraping into the nape of it, thumbs pressed against the line of his jaw, though he wasn't looking at him. Couldn't, it was all too much, eye contact would be the straw that broke him. He held on anyway, groaning and gasping and keening out little noises of broken pleasure. Sweat was making his own skin slick, he hadn't showered in a couple of days and the exertion and blood probably wasn't helping the situation. Not that he could tell, with his mask on. His wounds were seeping blood a little from under the stitches but none had torn out yet, not that he would have noticed if they had. 

That sharp pleasure just got him more excited. "You can be meaner than that, y'know. I've got turtlenecks," he said, grunting through the last bit of it as he finally managed to get himself at least three quarters of the way in. Shift a little this way, a little over to the right and - He grinned as Rorschach choked out another of those desperate moans. The hand that had been guiding his cock slid down to grab at Rorschach's ass, though there wasn't much to grab, and he squeezed it as he bucked up again, their sweaty bodies grinding against each other, hard packed muscle and bone and scars.

Rorschach responded to that by clawing into him deeper, drawing blood with his nails as he let out more breathless groans. When Comedian started to fuck him in earnest, he found himself bucking down hard into the thrusts, surprising himself by egging him on. His prick was dripping, even without being stroked, the friction of it rubbing up against Comedian's abdomen, matched with the way his prostrate was being pounded against by those hard thrusts were enough to have coil pleasuring hot in his guts, threatening to spill at any moment. Then again, it had been quite awhile, so it was no wonder he was so ready to go. 

"/Fuck/, you really are a goddamn alley cat, aren't you? No wonder you run around chasing birdy," he muttered, his breath hot and his words vibrating, even through Rorschach's mask. His hand gripped his ass hard enough to bruise as he forced the rest of himself into the kid's body, hungry for all of him and feeling victorious for having worked him up so quickly. He wiggled his torso forward a little more, grinding his abs up on Rorschach's prick. "I guess I still have to be gentle with you, huh kitten? You're all out of stamina..."

Suddenly Rorscharch's hands went from digging into Comedian's neck to wrapped around his neck, thumbs jabbing meanly into his windpipe. "Fuck you," he growled out. "Don't have to be gentle with me. Just been awhile. I can go for as long as you can." It was just a matter of will power after all, and he had that in abundance. He wasn't letting go of his strangle hold either, and wasn't planning to until he was forced to.

The Comedian laughed, and so did Edward Blake, but all that came out was a reedy, breathless noise, Rorschach's grip surprisingly strong. He knew that, of course, but /feeling/ it just made things better, taking the gloves off to have it out this way, too. Without trying to get his hands off of him, he forced himself forward to bite at Rorschach's mouth, not hard enough to prick his damn precious mask, but hard enough to bruise his lips beneath, if they weren't already. The hand that had been settled on one thigh came up to brace against the door, and he thrust up into him hard enough to make his head knock on it from the sudden force.

He dug his heels in to the back of Comedian's thighs, using the leverage to brace against the hard thrust the best he could. His grip didn't waver but he did grunt as his head was forced back, his bruised mouth stinging as his lip split even more under his mask, the metallic taste of his own blood spreading over his tongue even as the other man's teeth scraped against his mouth over his mask. It was sensitive to heat and cold, to being touched, which he knew perfectly well. He just never thought he would experience someone else through it so viscerally. He estimated it would take at least three minutes for Comedian to pass out with the current grip he had around his throat, maybe even four considering his military training and large frame. Rorschach wondered how close Comedian would let him get, the thought of it was rather stimulating. 

That was part of the fun, actually having someone who could go blow-to-blow with him. They weren't an even match, physically, but like this, they didn't have to be. The lack of air was going to his head quick, always did, a nice little rush that distanced him from the worse pain of it. If anything, it made him go harder, as fast as he could, not particularly worried about whether Rorschach would be able to stand afterwards. He had a couch. In fact, he'd probably be doing him a favor if he incapacitated him, but that was a distant concern when he was so tightly wound around him, when his feet were kicking Edward's back black and blue holding him where he wanted him.  
His grip still didn't loosen, even when he was being slammed into at full force, feeling like his guts were being rearranged, and might come sliding out once Comedian pulled free of him. It was an intense sensation, rough, uncomfortable, but still not painful, or at least the pain never managed to outstrip the pleasure of it. He found himself wanting to bite Comedian back, and then realized he could probably manage through the mask, and he hauled himself forward to do just that, drawing blood from his lips, rubbing his nose up against his a little with his teeth still latched onto him.

Of course. Of /course/ it would be fucking eskimo kisses while he was balls deep inside of him, while he was savaging his mouth. It made him shake with laughter again, even knowing the noise wasn't coming out, and he pressed into it, feeling the throb of his broken nose, of his broken lip as they ground into whatever the hell Rorschach was doing to him. It was perfect, and even as he felt his lungs began to burn, he could feel a heat higher in temperature and much, much further down spread out inside of his belly. He let bright spots start to burn into his vision before he wrapped a hand around Rorschach's prick, knowing it was foul play but /ready/ for it, ready for the way his already tight body became almost painful around him, too much, until an orgasm ripped itself through him, albeit probably the quietest one he'd ever had.

It felt too good to fight it, the throbbing pound of Comedian's pulse under the tight grip of his fingers around his thick neck. The way he'd leaned into the way Rorschach was nuzzling against his face, the way he kept slamming his hips into him, knocking him savagely up against the door hard enough that he wouldn't be surprised to find they'd loosened the hinges. Finally, the rough grip around his cock, squeezing him as he felt Comedian twitch and swell inside of him, felt a hot slick spill in his guts that had his face burning. A moment later his embarrassment was wiped from his mind completely as he cried out, a sound that was almost a ragged scream as his orgasm hit him full force, eyes squeezed shut behind his mask, panting for breath as his fingers finally loosened. 

"Hh... Mm, it's been a while," Edward said, "Since anybody messed me up that good. Nice workin with you." It was a little more raspy than usual, but no less deep, and he sealed it off by lapping against Rorschach's open mouth one last time, smearing his own blood that painted his mask. He worked his way out of him slowly, though he wasn't stupid enough to let him down all at once, holding him up by the waist while his legs learned their function again. It was the least embarrassing thing he could think of as he took off his condom and threw it into the trashcan by the door. "Now that I've got you sufficiently impaired, you're taking a goddamn shower whether you like it or not."

"Hnnnh." He grunted out, making a face at the idea of being forced into someone else's shower but not having the energy just then to resist. He barely had the energy to stand on his own too damn legs though he was managing reasonably well. They were a little shaky though, the blood loss finally catching up to him after that orgasm. "Fine." 

He let himself be herded into the shower stall, bracing one hand on the wall for support so he didn't fall on his ass as Comedian turned on the taps. He expected him to leave, or at least wait, since the shower stall wasn't exactly roomy, but he seemed to have no intention of it. "What. Are you planning on scrubbing my back?" 

"You sure as hell ain't doing it. You still have some of my fuckin decor lodged in your arm," Edward told him. "Come on, you're supposed to be about the practicality shit. You're wounded, you need cleaning. That's all the touchy feely bullshit I can handle for one night."

"All right." He conceded, because it was practical, but also because he was too exhausted to put up any kind of reasonable protest. "Don't look at my face," he muttered, after he'd stood in the spray of water for a long moment, reaching up with his uninjured arm to pull off his mask. More blood darkened the tub as it came off, and his curly hair stuck wetly to his face and neck. He had his back turned to the Comedian anyway, and it was too dark in the bathroom to see very clearly anyway, it should be fine. 

Instead of dignifying that, the Comedian just let out a click of his tongue, as if to say it was ridiculous that Rorschach would assume he wanted to see his face, anyway. After giving him a few seconds to paw at his own features, presumably getting some of the worse pieces of clotted up blood and scraped skin clean, Edward squirted some shampoo in his hand, running it along the nape of Rorschach's neck and into his hair. It wasn't the soft stuff of Veidt's commercials, shimmering and fine; it was wiry, and coarse, and it suited Rorschach in a way that seemed obvious now that he was actually touching it. He didn't bother telling him to close his eyes as he worked the shampoo in, figuring once the lather started, he was a grown damn man and could handle whatever decisions he had to make about whether or not he wanted to get streams of soapy water in his face.

He did close his eyes, and it felt good to let himself do it. He found himself swaying on his feet a little, grounded only by the fingers scrubbing and massaging against his scalp, shivers of pleasure running down his battered spine. He could barely even feel the various cuts and bruises in the soothing heat of the shower, had nearly forgotten about the shard of ceramic still stuck in his shoulder. It was nice to be touched, he realized, nice to put his guard down. Soft, maybe. Weak. But he couldn't being himself to care, he was experiencing something like luxury for the first time in his life, friendly touch that wasn't raising his hackles. 

There was something ludicrous about the fact that the slope of Rorschach's shoulders felt rewarding; Edward spent so much of his time winding other people up, and it wasn't as though Rorschach were an exception. But he seemed mostly feral, and jumpy, and there was something equally relaxing about him settling for a moment, still in the darkness , letting himself be worked over by Edward's rough touch. He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, scrubbing some of the suds behind his ears and down his neck, leaving his face untouched. "Grab the towel on the door and sit. We still have to patch up your arm."

He complied, toweling himself off, then drying his mask, pulling it back on and wrapping the towel around his hips, sitting down heavily on the toilet again, realizing again just how tired he was. "Sleep here tonight. If that's okay with you. Floor's fine. Just.....tired...." He was slumping forward a little, and didn't even twitch when Comedian tugged the shard out of his shoulder. In fact, he was leaning into him, and before he knew it he'd fallen asleep where he sat, slumped onto the other man. 

"Christ, kid," Edward muttered, though he couldn't bring it in himself to try to rouse Rorschach. Given the fact that his sewing didn't make him so much as twitch, he was betting it wouldn't have worked anyway. He tried to be quick about the rest of it, tying it off the suture before he ungraciously hefted Rorschach over a shoulder. He grunted a little in his sleep, but didn't stir otherwise, and Edward laid him out on the couch, stuffing a pillow under his head, and even throwing a blanket over him, like a polite goddamn host.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rorschach visits Dan the following night to confront some long-overdue truths about their partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited from a RP with @funklesunkle.
> 
> Ch 2 Tags: Rorschach/NiteOwl, Feelings, Anal Sex, Makeouts

All Dan could remember was that it had been a long, /long/ day.

One of the days where he'd felt like his brain had been put in a Vitamix and blended until smooth, and even then, someone had only managed to pour about half of it back into his head. The rest... God only knew where the rest had gone. His last handful of functioning neurons had led him, on auto-pilot, to the fridge, and he'd mindlessly dug his way through left over shrimp fried rice. There hadn't even been the presence of mind to heat it up, or wince at the way the rice was just a little too crunchy on his teeth. When he had finished, it had been a brushing that could hardly be called thorough, no floss, and a swish of mouthwash he almost choked on.

Sleep had been a loping, gormless thing at first; even as tired as he was, his brain still moved rapidly, a bird fluttering against the bars of its cage. Or, maybe more accurately, a chicken with its head cut off. He'd slid into sleep with his mouth twitching into a smile at the thought. Somewhere, in his hindbrain, the Kellogg's corn flake jingle played, ringing in his ears. 

His eyelashes fluttered open to the darkness. That wasn't so odd really, he lived in the city, and the city made noises. Additionally, he'd been a light sleeper his entire life, and despite his best efforts to keep to a sleep schedule like a responsible adult when he wasn't out patrolling, his mind never quite got the memo to power down. He'd assumed it was the case this time, too, dark eyes scanning the room casually. It wasn't long before he realized what had woken him up, though, because there was /someone/ a goddamn /inch/ away from the side of his face. He swung out before he could even think about it, startled when his hand was caught instead of just avoided. He felt a familiar squeeze.

"Ror...Schach...?"

He'd been there a while. Nite Owl had stirred a little when he was sliding silently and carefully into his bed, but he'd gone back to sleep again after, his brain slow to catch up to the presence of another sharing the space. But it did, and when he stirred, Rorschach was ready for him, catching his wrist, squeezing it at his pulse point a little. 

"Nite Owl. Shouldn't leave your windows unlocked." 

"Got tired of rep-placing them," Dan yawned. His heart was beating strangely in his chest, a flash of adrenaline wanting to make it go faster, but his immediate acknowledgement of /who/ was there with him letting him relax. It was weird that Rorschach was in the bed with him, but he had been before; for warmth, or mutual protection, or whatever bullshit excuse he needed. He sighed. "At least you took off your shoes. Staying the night?"

"Yes." He said, without beating around the bush. He had something specific planned for the two of them tonight, and they didn't even need to get out of bed to accomplish it. He'd slept until afternoon on the Comedian's couch, and when he'd awoken the other man was nowhere to be seen. He'd helped himself to some breakfast, left a note (Thanks. .rr. ) and slipped out. He'd hidden his mask and coat and spent the rest of the day wandering the streets, unseeing and unseen, lost in the web of his own thoughts, revisiting the details of the evening again and again. And thinking about Nite Owl. Some things were clear to him for the first time now, and he intended to share that clarity with his partner, to discern where they stood. His stomach and back and shoulder ached, but the pain had become familiar, and it was matched with the strange new soreness that being fucked had left him with. An ache that reminded him of pleasure rather than violence, a first. 

His eyes fluttered once, twice, and then closed completely, wrist gone limp in Rorschach's grasp. If he wanted to hold it, he could. That was his problem, now. "So you did end up overdoing it. Well," he puffed out a breath, eyebrows knitting together then smoothing out, "I'm not going to apologize for going on a date. But I don't think you have to worry about it happening any time soon again."

"Why?" He asked, suddenly interested in what had gone wrong. If it had been anything other than a disaster he would not have wanted to hear about it. 

"You mean other than the fact that she got so drunk I had to stay up all night making sure she didn't choke on her own vomit? Nothing," Dan said. He actually managed a small smile. "Oh, and she hates birds. Something nefarious to do with pigeons and the illuminati. We'll have to look into it."

"Hrm. Seems unlikely. Would have definitely pinged your radar before now." He joked, though his voice stayed a perfect low monotone. The truth was, he was experiencing a marked relief that the date had gone poorly, a relief he understood now in a way he hadn't fully grasped before. Just as he hadn't grasped the extent of his irritation at Nite Owl's plans, before Comedian had shoved his face in it so bluntly. "Wish I could say I was sorry your date was a bust. Not that sorry." 

"Yeah. I mean, my bed's nice, but it's not big enough for three," Dan joked back. A deep breath made his chest rise and fall. "S'alright. I don't drink that much anyway. And I think you might actually be better at conversation than she was."

"Probably better at a lot of things. Judging by the information given." Rorschach's head was pillowed on one of his bent arms, and he was staring at Nite Owl's face through his mask, comforted in the knowledge of the opaque barrier between them, emboldened to speak his own truths. "Glad we're talking. About what you like. Exactly why I'm here."

His brows tugged in at that again, and he opened his eyes, squinting in the darkness. There was always such an earnestness to his expressions, something he'd never learned to properly conceal without his goggles and cowl. Sometimes with them. "Wow. They busted you up bad enough you need a pep talk?"

"No. Injuries irrelevant to current discussion. Wanted to ask. Why go on a date in the first place. What is it you want out of a companion." He stayed very still where he lay, not so much as twitching a muscle, his breath silent and shallow, taking in every minuscule detail of Nite Owl's reaction to this. 

Fingers twitched where they laid against the bed, his pulse kicking under Rorschach's grip to hear he was injured. Asking where and how badly and henning over him wouldn't get any answers, though, so he frowned, trying to think. "...What everyone wants, I guess. To have someone to love. Someone to grow old with. Maybe start a family." He sighed. "To be honest with you, I don't know about that last part. It didn't seem like a family was fun for Silk Specter."

"Hrmh. Don't think you're quite so much like everyone else. As you say you are. Me neither. Sometimes I used to wonder what it would be like. Being in love. Caring for someone else. Being intimate. Hard to imagine me doing it at all. Hard to imagine someone wanting me. Uncomfortable around women. Distrust other men. Only exception...is you." He was silent for a moment, for so long it seemed like he might be done talking, and he could see Nite Owl gearing up to say something, then he interrupted. He had to be a man about this, he had to say it outright. "You're my partner. Never thought anything other than friendship was possible. Last night, I changed my mind. Want this to be more. " 

"...I mean, it's not like we're going to marry each other," Dan said, after a few seconds to try to think about it. "You basically live with me already. I mean, you have a key, you just never /use/ it."

Rorschach stared at him, silent again for a long moment. "Are you trying to say, you see us as more than friends already?" This thought had not occurred to him. If that was true, why had Nite Owl gone on the date, even though he knew it agitated him?

"Well, I mean we're. Partners. To be honest, I wasn't even sure you thought of me as your friend. You never even call me by my name," he said, "But you know more about me than anyone else. You have access to my workshop. My house. I don't get how I can share much more of my life with you."

"It's not on you. It's me. Was confused about a lot of things. Ignorant." His grip on Nite Owl's wrist tightened a little, and he dragged it closer, placing his palm over the shifting black and white patterns of his mask. He'd never invited Nite Owl's touch before, at most had only tolerated the occasional handshake or pat on the back or shoulder. But now he wanted it with an intensity that surprised him. "Didn't know how to be intimate. Afraid of sex, avoided the idea at all costs. Now it's different. Want to do that with you. Doesn't have to be right away. Or at all. Just wanted to tell you." 

Dan blinked a few times. If he'd had a few working brain cells, they'd all just died a magnificent, explosive death inside his head. Both brows arched, though his eyes didn't widen. He didn't have the damn /energy/ for shock right now, even as he could feel his face coloring, his fingertips just slightly dragging over Rorschach's mask. "Wait. Sex? What could have /possibly/ happened? Admitting you were wrong about something would have been weird enough, but I mean... /Seriously/?"

"Got hurt, needed somewhere to go. Still sore about your date. Went to the Comedian's place. He patched me up, and then we had sex. Pretty sure I'm still not a queer, but it was fine. .....I liked it. Only. Now I want to do it with someone who. Someone I... ... care about." 

"Okay. Okay. I can... Actually believe that if someone was going to break you down about sex it would be the Comedian. It's just. Kind of making me think I'm suffering some weird kind of hallucination to hear that you actually enjoyed it. I mean, am I dealing with severe brain trauma right now? Like is there a code you can use to snap me out of a coma, or at least let me know that's what this is? Tell me to wake up or something."

"Not a coma. You're already awake." He rubbed his face into Nite Owl's hand a little. "Wasn't what I thought sex would be like. Thought it would be awkward, painful, confusing. Humiliating. Wasn't." 

The back of his tongue was dry as he felt the curve of Rorschach's face against his palm, the heel of his hand resting in the hollow of his cheek. It was somehow exactly like he'd pictured Rorschach's face if it were something that he'd thought about before. For some startling reason, he hadn't. "I mean it can be all of those things. But it shouldn't be," Dan told him. He let out a breath he hadn't fully realized he was holding. "Okay. Are you sure you actually want that... With me? Or is it just because you're comfortable with me?"

"Do you want it?" He asked him instead of answering, because the answer to that question seemed more apropos. "Our partnership is important too. Can drop it if you don't want to." 

"...I don't want it to bleed into everything else," Dan said back. His finger traced the crest of Rorschach's orbital bone. His eyes were deep set, which was. New information, he guessed. "The distance is fine when we're doing other things. But there's no part of Nite Owl here, right now."

"Just Daniel? That's fine. I like him too." It wasn't even empty flattery, Rorschach realized. He really did like Daniel, for all that he sometimes found him naive, or amusingly long winded, as much as they lived in very different worlds. Maybe because of it. 

He laughed. He couldn't help it. At the same time, he'd inadvertently moved a little closer, his knees and shins just barely touching against Rorschach's, naked skin against pressed trousers. "...Then yeah. I'd like to," Dan said, "Can I kiss you? How many knocks to the mouth did you take?"

"Yes." He said, his voice low and decisive, not bothering to answer that second question. The fingers of his other hand were already curling into Daniel's hair, angling his chin up a little more so their lips would meet when he leaned in. His mouth was a swollen, bruised mess, which made him doubly glad of the mask between them. Even though, the moment their lips met, he couldn't help the way his heart leapt in his chest, beating harder as he instantly wanted to feel the other man's mouth pressed up against his own, skin to skin, intimate.

It was a feeling Dan shared, though he had to admit, the texture kissing him through the mask was... Singular. It also made him want to get closer to the rest of his body, less sanctified. He started by slipping his hand around to catch at Rorschach's fingers, pulling at his glove until it came loose. Experimenting with how well he took it, he ran his hand along the tentative curl of Rorschach's fingers, his palm, noting the skin at the center was unblemished, smooth, though his fingers had been rough and hard with work. 

He shivered at that touch, surprised all over again at the sensation it caused in him. He'd already been surprised once with how much touching had been involved, with Comedian. His only observations of sex had been either brutally informal or poorly acted pantomimes of pleasure. That it could be involved with such genuine desire took him off guard, made him hungry in a way he'd never been before. His palm flexed, then curled again, his fingers sliding between Daniel's and gripping at them, fully entwined. He leaned forward to kiss him again, then drew back after a moment, frustrated, pausing to fumble with the bottom edge of his mask, pulling it up away from his neatly knotted scarf so his mouth and chin were exposed. His face was rough with stubble, his lips broken, bruised and bloodied, but surprisingly soft, for all that. 

Honestly, that could have been enough; some sort of circuitry in Dan's brain had shorted out when he felt Rorschach's actual breath curl across his lips. Kissing him, squeezing his hand as they laid together just seemed like a succinct, logical, wonderful conclusion they had reached. He pressed half a dozen kisses to his lips as he shifted, letting his other hand move between them, unknot the scarf around Rorschach's throat. He didn't remove it, just untied it, the same way he worked the belt and buttons to his coat, leaving it on but opened to him, letting his partner make the call of whether or not to shed him and seeing, little by little, how far Rorschach's desire would actually go to letting himself be opened up.

That was nice, he realized, much nicer than before, when he'd been brutally stripped down, left exposed and vulnerable, even if it was for the purpose of pleasure. He liked having the familiar comfort of his coat and clothes and mask, the uniform he put on to help him feel whole, a measure of control enacted on his body. Like this, his freckles didn't show, the true extent of his sleight build was somewhat hidden. He reached over to touch Daniel too, his hand stroking down his broad chest, over the pleasant thickness of his torso, around to pet his back as they kissed, as Daniel unfastened his own clothes. Finally he got bold, as Daniel's hands seemed to hesitate with the button of his trousers, and slid his hand down into the waistband of his pajama pants, his fingers brushing over his cock, exploring the shape and girth of it. 

He sucked in a breath at that, always slightly traumatized by the idea of another person touching his body so intimately. It had been a long time since he'd been anything to be ashamed of, but he still felt that part of him in his hindbrain, waiting for the illusion of all the muscle and height he'd put on to dissolve away into something laughable again. The hesitancy of Rorschach's touches helped with that, somewhat, though; physical proof he wasn't the only one dealing with nerves. It made it easier to guess what he'd be alright with, too, and Dan's hands brushed over the tops of Rorschach's thighs to his prick, wrapping around it and working him slowly. His kisses matched the motions of them, open but still soft, still slow, little flutters of breath here and there. 

"...Is it okay if I take your pants off?" he asked at last. 

"Yes." He said, his voice still low, rough and a little breathy as he shifted his hips to help Dan slide his trousers off. He thought he would have liked to keep them on too, but it was impractical, they would get tangled around his legs and thighs and just get in the way for what he had in mind. "Always liked your body. Strong, masculine. No reason to feel shy." He was surprised he could sense it, and maybe it was only because of the sheer brazen confidence his only other sexual partner had come to the table with. 

"Oh... Thanks," Dan replied, finding it awkward, maybe, from their position, or maybe just because it was, objectively, awkward. His hands stroked up Rorschach's thighs, giving himself something to do as he leaned in for another kiss. "You know... I never actually thought about your body. Or your face. I guess you've always been... You? Which probably sounds stupid-"

"Wanted it that way. Didn't want you to see me. Still don't. Better off that way, can imagine something nicer." He wasn't being coy, it was just the blunt truth of the matter. He was ugly, and he had no illusions he wasn't. Wiry untamable curls, sunken eyes, his face too long, awkwardly gaunt and ungainly, further ruined by too many freckles. 

"...I don't need to imagine," Dan said, kissing his jaw, over his stubble. He was already a little burned from where he'd been kissing him before, but just on his chin, since they'd been going at it so gently. His hands worked at the tight muscles in Rorschach's thighs, and he pressed a kiss to his throat, too, his pulse, enjoying the feeling on his lips. "Not now, anyway."

He shivered again, feeling the edge of shame burn off at those words, feeling validated, both in wearing his mask, and in choosing to do this with Daniel in the first place. He'd been concerned that Daniel would want him to strip away too much of himself, to expose his weaker half, the ugly mundanity of his existence outside of Rorschach. Knowing Daniel didn't mind made him feel much bolder. "Good." He murmured, and suddenly rolled over on top of him, wrestling Daniel flat onto his back and straddling his hips, leaning down to kiss him with much more heated passion, his free hand gripping into his hair. He drew Daniel's other hand under his coat, around to grip at his ass as he finally unlaced their fingers, rubbing his hips down against his. 

It was a lot happening at once, and very suddenly, and Dan tried to let his brain adjust to the fact that it was Rorschach who was responsible for all of that. Rorschach, who was on top of him, kissing him hard enough that he could feel their teeth rub behind each other's mouths. But it spurred him to act, too, squeezing Rorschach towards him, the direct friction against his cock reminding him exactly what they were doing. He found his hand creeping down, rubbing at Rorschach's perineum as best he could before his touch slid back against his hole. He laughed to feel Rorschach's reaction to it, like an icecube had been shoved down his shirt collar, but he held him close. "What do you know. There /is/ a part of you that's sensitive..."

"Hnnh," he growled out, but a moment later he was pushing back into the rub of Dan's fingers, wanting more. "Here." He said a moment later, extracting one of his hands from Dan's hair to rummage in his pocket. "Picked this up last night." He pulled out a small bottle of lube and pressed it into Daniel's other hand. He'd lifted it from the Comedian's bathroom on his way out, but he felt it was the wrong moment to remind Daniel of where exactly he'd been the night before. 

"...Of course you did," Dan laughed again, finding himself somehow not only unsurprised but... Was endeared the right word, he wondered. If Rorschach was given to do anything, it was overthink things, and he seemed to have just about everything he could conceivably need at any given moment. He'd likened him to Mary Poppins once, only to receive a very long, harsh glare from behind his mask and a long night of the cold shoulder for the rest of their patrol. 

"I don't guess you're going to pull a condom out from behind my ear, next?" he said.

"Don't want one. Unless you do." He said, pausing to look down at Daniel, wanting to be sure the other man gave a straightforward answer to that implied question. With Daniel's clearly sparse track record with consummated relationships, he felt more or less secure in taking what slight risk of transmission there might be between them. 

"Uh... No. I guess not?" Dan replied, "I could handle another kiss, though." His hand had curled up, one finger digging just at the curl of where Rorschach had peeled his mask up, careful to make it clear he wasn't intent on pulling it up even further. Instead, he used it to guide him forward, sure about kissing, at least, and using that to anchor him. His grip was gone just as soon as it had come, hands busying themselves with the lube, spreading probably too much over one hand. Then again, he had... A lot to offer, if he was being delicate about it, so more was probably just erring on the side of caution.

Rorcharch had admittedly never thought about the size of Dan's cock before he'd been lying there in bed with him earlier, waiting for him to wake up. He thought he'd been undecided on his own preferences, but the rush of heat that had coursed through him when his fingers had met the hefty weight of Daniel's engorged prick earlier had settled that matter quickly. His hole was still sore and raw from being so roughly pounded the night before, but he already found it easier to relax for Daniel's fingers, despite that. "Don't have to be so careful. Won't break me." He murmured against Dan's mouth, as they broke the kiss to catch their breath.

"Maybe not... I just worry sometimes about how you tear," Dan told him, which was true. Rorschach had a terrible propensity to getting the living hell beaten out of him and then getting up and walking it off to go get the hell beaten out of him /again/. Which was probably what was happening now, Dan guessed, but he was too selfish to stop what was already in motion. He liked being this close with Rorschach, wanted to give him some kind of pleasure beyond the occasional wheeze of voiceless laughter he could coax from him. He worked two fingers inside of him, curling, slow, letting the feeling of being fucked on them sink in properly. He grinned when he felt Rorschach wriggle against them a little more, clearly impatient.

The truth was he was already busted up pretty badly, glad it was dark enough that Dan hadn't yet seen the rough stitches in his shoulder or stomach or thigh, lucky enough that his hands hadn't grazed against them yet. Pain was both temporary and constant in his life, the source just shifted around. Easy enough to ignore, especially when it would just get in the way of what he wanted. 

"Stop worrying and fuck me." He said, his voice rough with desire, intense as his hands curled tighter into Daniel's soft mahogany curls, hips rubbing against him impatiently. 

"Okay. But not because you told me to," Dan joked, though when Rorschach mashed their mouths together a moment later, he felt himself relent, at last. He stroked his own prick with the rest of the lube on his fingers, guiding the thick head of it to Rorschach's hole. He tried to be slow with it, patient, and even had to grab Rorschach by the hips to stop him from pushing it too fast. Evidently, he had no idea what could happen from that, and Dan didn't want to be the one that made sure he found out. He went slowly, as planned, working Rorschach's body open the way he'd done with his clothes, the way he'd done with his trust, the way he'd done with his life. 

Rorschach resisted only for a moment, then relented and let Daniel set the pace. He groaned into the kiss, unabashedly vocal in front of the other man as his cock slowly stretched him open. It burned, but that was all right, because his own cock was incredibly hard, already against Daniel's stomach as he took him in inch by inch. His fingers kneaded into his neck, shoulders, hair, shivering as he was filled up. 

Dan kissed him again once he was completely inside of him, his iron grip softening, just a little, to stroke his thumbs over the muscles of Rorschach's hips. There was only a moment he let himself be still before he pulled back, pulling Rorschach up off of him too, then moving up and pushing Rorschach down at the same time. It wasn't something he was exactly used to doing, but it was something the situation probably required, at least until Rorschach could be trusted to actually keep with a steady pace.

"Nghh," he groaned out again at the first thrust, his blunt nails digging into the solid muscle of Daniel's shoulders as his own spine bowed. "Feels good..." he said, partly because he thought Daniel might appreciate the encouragement, the reassurance that he was enjoying it. Though it seemed pretty obvious to him. 

That made a little shiver of excitement run through him, and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't as controlled as he should have been on the next thrust, his cock throbbing as he heard Rorschach's breath catch for him. Of course, that earned another groan, and another, until he had to drag Rorschach down by the lapels to kiss him before he ended up toppling him over and fucking him into the mattress. The tip of his tongue pressed against Rorschach's open mouth, coaxing him out as he bucked up again.

Rorschach's knees and toes were dug into the soft mattress for purchase, his thighs tensed and quivering as he moved into the thrusts, pushing back so that Daniel's cock thrust even deeper, with more force, with every snap of his hips. The press of Daniel's tongue had his lips parting, his own tongue sliding out to lave against it, the sensation making him jolt and then groan, muffled into his mouth. 

"Rorschach," Dan breathed as they both gulped in breath, as though he were the blushing virgin between them. His hand slipped between the draping clothing on Rorschach's body, fingers spreading over one half of his chest - missing his stitches by chance alone. He paused for just a moment as his fingers brushed Rorschach's nipple and he felt a distinct /shiver/ run through his body. Dan stared up at him, blinking, before his fingertips found their way around the little bud and rolled it, slow but undeniable. He swore he could /feel/ his pupils dilate from the sound that Rorschach made at that.

It would have been embarrassing if Rorschach wasn't far gone beyond that now. "More," he managed to ask, and when Daniel pinched and rubbed the little bud of his nipple harder he made a sound almost exactly like the first, trickling off into a keen of pleasure. He had no idea that would feel so good, as it was he felt heat spread from that little sensitive pinpoint all through his chest, down to his groin, making his heart pound even harder in his chest, and his cock throb eagerly, his hole squeezing down around Daniel's prick. 

"Come here," he said, which was pointless, because a split second later, he was pulling on Rorschach's coat and shirt again, fisting them into the hand that had been playing with his chest. He used the leverage to sit up a little ways, his own mouth locking around Rorschach's nipple, sucking it between his teeth as he bucked up again. For the first time, he didn't wait for his partner to process - his free hand was on Rorschach's cock before he could do anything about it, wrapped securely as he jerked him off.

"Hnnghh... Daniel..." he gasped out, one hand fisted in his curls, keeping his mouth pressed up against his chest, moaning shamelessly when his teeth worked at it. Every thrust of Daniel's cock was now met with an accompanying squeeze of his hand around his own, and he felt himself throb and drip even more insistently, swollen and sensitive and /ready/. He had to wait though, wanted to wait, wanted to make sure Daniel got off too, wanted to experience it with him. "Mgghhh, close..." he panted, raking his fingers against his scalp as he moved on him, encouraging him to thrust into him harder. 

Dan moaned back against his body, only letting go of his nipple to kiss his chest, his throat, to let his arm coil around Rorschach's narrow waist and hold him closer. He didn't mind when his hair was wrenched back so he could be forced into a kiss, didn't even mind that there was a little blood in it from Rorschach's split lip reopening. There was the far greater urgency in the pressure around his dick, and instinctively, he knew they were trying to match each other. He could only hold out for so long before it was all too much though, Rorschach's body so tight around him, and he found himself groaning out into his mouth with the intense feeling of release.

That felt good to him too, and he felt the warmth of his come seep into him, glad he'd decided not to use a condom. His tongue was in Daniel's mouth and his groans melted into a muffled scream as he came too, his cock finally releasing all that pent up pressure, come shooting messily between them, over Daniel's stomach and fist. He didn't stop moving right then, either, squeezing down around him and thrusting down onto him a couple more times, until he was too oversensitive he couldn't bear any more, shuddering and finally slumping down against him. 

If Dan had the prescience of mind to wipe the excess come off his hand on the sheets before he wrapped both arms around Rorschach, it was pure luck. He had exactly one instinct left, which was to hold him close and press kisses to the top of his head, even if it was still covered by his mask. He could still feel the warmth of him, the short hair coiled beneath that left strange bumps in the latex. 

Rorschach seemed content to reciprocate that urge without a second thought to it, curling his own arms around Daniel's waist and tucking his head into his chest. It felt strange to be held like that, it made something inside of him ache with a poignant feeling that wasn't quite pain, but that he otherwise couldn't pin down, but.. "Good," he said again, muffled into him. "....Feels good." 

Dan felt his heart squeeze a little at that, though he remembered not to squeeze Rorschach too firmly into his arms, not wanting to aggravate his injuries. “I’m glad.” He murmured, against the top of his head, letting his eyes close again as he nestled back into the pillows. Maybe this time when he woke, Rorschach would still be right here with him. He let himself hope so.


End file.
